4.
at times when I plant
basil such a delicate plant
I’ve to be careful to synchronize
my breath while I gently press
the dirt around as when
words sprout on paper
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
.
5.
on mornings I walk
into the sun rising with each step
I type in words – they crowd around me
at dawn very few people are
around silence is bubbling
.
.
..
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
.
.
.
.
This Sunday Post is both in Italian and in English
*
nuvola
senza che nessuno
cambi tutto
cambia
.
.
*
cloud
without anybody
changing everything
changes
.
.
6.
as the steps behind the stage
before the curtains rise fretful
yet filled with anticipation are
these morning poems coming
to me out of silence – eager
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
.
Sunday posts are dedicated to Italian Poetry
*
si dice di questa eclisse
di luna chissà
nei tempi antichi che
non sapevano
quello che sappiamo
noi cosa si sarà
creduto mai di una tal notte
.
si sarà creduto
semplicemente la verità
che in una notte
si compiva l’intero spettacolo
di un mese circa
come un riassunto per chi fosse stato attento
.
prima e per chi no
.
.
.
Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.
Sì, la domenica le poesie saranno in italiano!
7.
some people sit and read
the program but do not pay
attention to the music or the tempo
they do not single out instruments
they need punctuation in poetry
prose in the shape of a column
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
Sunday posts are dedicated to Italian Poetry
*
ogni fiore ha la sua
ape che per un tempo lo abbraccia
e lo deruba eppure si dona
serenamente non un fiore
scappa via alcuni cadono
nel canale l’acqua
scorre lenta scorre alta
quella degli irrigatori
dipingono un arcobaleno
nell’aria per me che
ho una vita più breve della loro
.
.
Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.
Sì, la domenica le poesie saranno in italiano!
Poesia tratta da “California Notebooks” in vendita da Feltrinelli.
.
8.
some dreams are infinite it takes
but a few words to evoke those
emotions are a whole sea of waves
useless to separate them to make
some sense just a few words
can take you to sea free the page
among waves and winds
let the reader fly
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
.
9.
I’ve tried to explain
how the whites around
the words are so important
to me those silences I caress
on paper breaths spaces
make the poem
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
Sunday’s posts are dedicated to Italian Poetry
*
ninfea dei boschi
ti sembravo e ti dissi no
avevo i capelli corti
e pantaloncini
nulla sembrava
fluire con il vento se non
gambe e braccia
lunghe e il sorriso biondo
.
.
.
.
Tuesday Poems will be in English as usual.
Sì, la domenica le poesie saranno in italiano!
10.
have you been to that quiet corner
in your house when you shut out
all the superficial chatter where
you are the spirit of poetry
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
11.
there’s a pace you need
to let your soul reach where
there will be no more war inside
of you nor anger where you bow
kindly and poetry welcomes you
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
.
.
.
*
non mi sono mai
seduta in riva al fiume
a meditare la vita
scorreva veloce dentro
e la domenica fu
meraviglia dopo meraviglia
una festa a sorpresa
.
.
.
.
12.
Cloud have covered the whole
day slowing down my rhythm
I walk as barefoot on carpet
placing words carefully
dozing off a bit hanging
poetic moments behind my eyes
.
.
.
.
After Wallace Stevens poem Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird.
.
*
a petal can lead
to an expanse of flowers
of poetry and lightness
surprisingly colored
to an internal suburban world
projecting me with telescopic
vision toward the earth I who
believes to be above it
within not yet under
I who believe and know no more
I who believes evermore that
I’m and nothing else matters
who loves to live an atom
at a time my own explosion
.
.
.
This poem appears in the first volume of the California Notebooks.
.
